War Stories
by Silmarion
Summary: He always heard that war was hell. Now he could experience it first hand.


**A couple things first. I know this isn't the next chapter for Near to You, and honestly, I really don't know when I'll be able to update that. I'm currently going through some pretty major family difficulties and I just can't wrap my head around much of anything lighthearted. I also just recently was accepted into and started Americorps NCCC meaning that I very rarely have access to internet anymore. For anyone who hasn't heard of Americorps, (which is probably quite a few, judging from the number of times I've had to talk about it to people IRL) I suggest you look it up. **

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War is Hell.

Or so he'd been told.

For Uchiha Itachi, war was a means to an end. A vile, gruesome, bloody means to a frighteningly uncertain end, but an end, no less.

He came from a long line of military men, his father serving in the army, his grandfather before him and his great-grandfather before _him_, dating all the way back before the very foundation of Konoha, nearly two hundred years before. It was the duty of every Uchiha male to give his life in service to clan and country, to commence training the moment he learned to walk and to carve himself into a soldier of destruction to stand in the way of any who dared threaten his homeland.

Itachi was to be no exception.

Even at a young age, it was clear he was destined for greatness. He was flawlessly proficient with every weapon forced into his small hands, his natural grace and cunning unparalleled by any the clan had ever seen. His father made no secret of his expectations. Itachi would fly up the army ranks in no time, gaining influence and control each step of the way and cementing the Uchiha name in Konoha history.

Itachi could think of nothing he wanted less for his life. He had no interest in fame and honor, no deep seeded desire for his children's children to learn about the great Uchiha Itachi and his valiant rise to glory as he battled hordes of the unknown. Itachi yearned for a quiet life, a life of solitude and simplicity where he could spend the days peacefully drinking tea and brushing up on his literature.

But his clan would never accept such a life. He would to bring them glory, and no amount of personal aspirations would change the fact that Itachi was a prodigy of deadly arts. And with the much-anticipated declaration of war still ringing in the ears of Konoha's citizens, all Itachi's hopes of a simpler life ceased to exist.

Which is why he found himself, at the age of twenty-one, with his back pressed against the muddy walls of a shallow trench, surrounded by his fellow squadmates, some unharmed, some clinging desperately to the last fading rays of existence, but most long since passed, their blood fading into the small river of mud swirling around Itachi's feet.

His platoon had been sent to the northern border of Konoha to intercept and neutralize a small scouting party. The Hokage had selected Itachi's team specifically knowing that, despite the enemy's slightly superior numbers, the prodigy would have no problems diffusing the situation.

How wrong he had been. Itachi knew, from the moment he spotted the so-called "small party" emerging from the tree line, that his thirty-two-man platoon was done for. They made an impressive stand, taking out well over half of what Itachi estimated to be an army of around one hundred and fifty, but his remaining men were inarguably worn and battered.

It was the third night of uninterrupted bloodbath when the sound of gunshots began to fade and the showering of grenades was replaced by a soft, warm rain.

He was out of ammo. A quick survey of his remaining men verified that they, too, were out. And with the com-radio in pieces, thanks to a lucky grenade toss, Itachi had no way of calling back to Konoha. No ammunition, no backup, no chance of survival.

For reasons he couldn't explain, Itachi thought of his mother.

Uchiha men were known for their expertise on the battlefield, and the women for their ruthless discipline. After all, they were raising warriors, not children, and a warrior was not to be coddled.

Itachi's mother was a lone exception; her kind, loving nature a complete contradiction of what was expected from the wife of the clan chief. The clan was stone, and those representing it were expected to _be_ stone. Itachi's mother was like a gentle brook: small and cheerful. But given time, even a tiny brook could smooth down the roughest of rocks.

Itachi was able to thank her for what little humanity remained within him. He knew that without her, he would be nothing more than the lethal tool his father wished him to be. He couldn't help but wish that he could see her one last time, in order to thank her.

He was pulled from his reverie by a lone voice floating over gap between the eerily silent groups. The enemy's commander, proposing a meeting in the center to negotiate a truce.

A trap, Itachi knew.

But before he could give his reply, one of his men began to scurry over the edge of their fortification. The order to return had barely passed from Itachi's lips when a hale of gunfire rang out, ripping through the young man's soft flesh.

As his lifeless body fell back into the trench, Itachi swiftly moved to see who it was. His blood ran cold when he was finally able to make out the blood-spattered face in the fading light.

Uchiha Shisui.

No, war is not hell. War is far worse.

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**This is kind of an experiment. I'd been contemplating doing a war related story revolving around Itachi for awhile and for some reason I really liked the idea of making it more World War II era. I wasn't sure how that'd go over with people, but I decided to risk it anyway. Also, I may try to make this into a series of oneshots. Possibly try adding a little romance. You all should let me know your thoughts on that. Also, if you support the idea, let me know who you think the love interest should be. I have an idea, but I'd like to see what others think. **

**Much thanks for reading!**

**Sil**


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